I recently found myself at the train station in Milan, happily awaiting my 11-year-old niece. When she arrived she wanted to go to the restroom, one of those ultra-modern ones that has an electronic entrance system where you put a coin in, with men and women attendants. While I’m waiting a young black man comes along, obviously a regular at the station. He is about to insert his coin when one of the attendants stops him, jerks him aside and tells him to go away. As he is pushed outside I hear him repeat in broken Italian ‘No razzismo’ – ‘No racism’.

I ask the attendant why he wouldn’t let him in and he tells me that they there is some dangerous work going on and that anyway they are fed up with people like him. The young man continues to repeat ‘No razzismo’ when the attendant turns around and punches him in the face! He winces from the pain and stutters - ‘What made you do that?’ I am totally shocked, it feels as though I had been struck, and I experience the pain of shattered dignity, of a defenseless person who has been crushed.

The attendant calls the Security Guard and in front of everybody states that the young man had attacked him. All his colleagues confirm this. The security guard takes the boy aside saying - ‘Jimmy, I know you; you’ve never done anything like this before. Tell me what happened, otherwise I’ll have to arrest you.’

I’ll never forget the dismayed look on Jimmy’s face as he looked around searching for someone who would stand up for him. I step forward: ‘That’s not what happened!’ I hear myself saying. All the attendants turn on me with a menacing look, but I am not afraid: I have to reply to Jimmy’s thirst for justice.

The guard smiles and asks me if I would be willing to confirm this in front of the police. I say ‘yes’ and am taken to the police station together with Jimmy to make a statement. The police immediately go to the train station to interview the others. In the meantime Jimmy asks who I am and why I had stood up for him. ‘I stood up for you because I am a Christian and you are a son of God too.’ The turmoil in my heart is calmed by Jimmy’s whispered ‘Thank you.’

The guard smiles at me again. Jimmy decides not to press charges saying that it’s enough that they believe what he says. I never saw Jimmy again. The police have told me that he is getting on fine. I’ve often seen the attendants though and every time I pray for them.


From Città Nuova 25 January 2010
 

Sara Pasquariello